Comet Capers
by brassband777
Summary: Teenchester! Sam wants to see a comet that only orbits every one hundred and fourteen years. Can Sam convince Dean to break curfew so that he can see it? Caring big brother Dean. Caring John. WARNING: contains SPANKING. Please do not read if this offends


**Title: **Comet Capers  
**Author:** brassband777  
**Characters: **John, Dean (17 yrs), Sam (13 yrs)  
**Scenario:** Teenchesters, discipline fic.  
**Summary:** Sam convinces Dean to break curfew so that he can see a comet that only orbits every one hundred and fourteen years.  
**Author's Notes/Warnings****: **Parental spanking of two teenagers. (The comet in this story is fictional)

**Comet Capers:**

"Pleeeeeeease, Dean," whined the thirteen-year-old.

"Uh-uh, Sammy," Dean shook his head, "Comet-gawping doesn't constitute a reasonable reason for not adhering to curfew…and you thought you were the only one who knew big words." The seventeen-year-old smirked.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, lower lip protruding. "But it only comes around every one hundred and fourteen years, so I'll be dead next time."

Dean shrugged. "If you keep on eating all those vegetables like you do, maybe you'll live extra long?"

Sam scowled. "Duh, the oldest person in the world, Jeanne Calment, only lived to be one hundred and twenty-two and I'd have to live to one hundred and twenty-seven! Come on, man, pleeeease…"

Dean stared at his younger brother for a moment, stunned. _How on earth did the kid know such useless, random facts?_

"No, Sammy, now quit it. Dad was even more specific than usual about staying in after dark."

Sam tried a new tack. "If you love me, you'll take me to see the comet."

Dean snorted. "Emotional blackmail, huh? Well it's not gonna work 'cause I don't love you, you're a pain in the ass."

"I hate you," Sam flung at him before stomping off to their shared bedroom and slamming the door.

Dean shook his head. The kid had been going on about the dratted comet ever since his science teacher had told his class about it last week. Dean strongly suspected that if it wasn't for the fact that there was too much light pollution in the town and you needed to be in the countryside to see it effectively, Sam would possibly have bypassed him altogether and just snuck out. As it was, the kid wanted his big brother to drive him out into the countryside in the Impala at one o'clock in the morning. Dean really wished that their Dad was home, because he really hated disappointing his brother and John might have been willing to take Sammy out to watch the comet, but he was on a hunt of some kind a few towns over and wasn't due back until the weekend.

In the bedroom, Sam punched his pillow in frustration. It just wasn't fair! _How could Dean not realise this was a once in a lifetime opportunity? Because it's not a classic car or a girl or something to hunt!_ thought Sam bitterly.

Sam had tried the puppy-dog eyes without success the day before. It was extremely rare for those to fail - usually only when Sam's safety would be compromised or direct orders from their father were involved. Sam had hoped to persuade Dean that disregarding curfew for a once in a lifetime opportunity was acceptable. He had begged and pleaded. Dean, however – _Daddy's little soldier_ – had remained unmoved.

His sulking, stroppy, attempted blackmail approach today hadn't worked either. The comet was only visible for three days. He had already missed one chance and the weather forecast for the next day was heavy rain, which meant dense cloud cover, so Sam knew it was now or never. The young teen desperately wracked his brains – _how could he get Dean to do what he wanted? What couldn't Dean resist?_

Sam knew the answer, but couldn't see how he could pull it off – tears. Dean couldn't bear it when Sam cried and would usually do _anything_ in his power to stop him being upset and comfort him. Being thirteen, Sam now considered himself too old to cry, but was willing to make an exception and suffer the humiliation if it would get him what he wanted. It was Sam himself who felt embarrassed about crying, Dean most certainly never looked down on him or teased him about it when he did.

Sam spent over 20 minutes trying to make himself cry, to no avail. He tried thinking of sad things, he tried rubbing his eyes with his fists repeatedly, he tried pinching himself, hoping the pain would make his eyes water, but at the end he was still completely dry-eyed and increasingly annoyed.

When Dean called Sam to say that supper was ready, he found his younger brother lying on his bed reading, a mutinous expression fixed firmly in place. Sam didn't bother to respond to Dean verbally, he simply pushed passed his older sibling with an affronted huff and moved into the small apartment's kitchen. Dean sighed – it was going to be a very long, unpleasant evening with Sam in this mood!

Sam glanced at the table as he passed it, noting that Dean had made macaroni cheese - one of his favourites. He knew without a doubt that his big brother had done that on purpose in order to try and cheer him up. He yanked open the refrigerator door intending to pour himself a drink of milk and slammed a glass down on the side. A second later he paused, as a small bottle on the lower shelf caught his eye – lemon juice. _Surely that would make his eyes water? Maybe he could pull it off after all?_

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN **

Sam lay in bed, reading with a flashlight. He could hear Dean in the bathroom and knew that his brother would be coming to bed any minute. The thirteen-year-old quickly set aside his book and reached under the pillow where he had earlier stowed the lemon juice. He poured a small amount of the juice onto two balls of cotton wool which he had taken from the bathroom when he had brushed his teeth earlier and wiped both eyes with them at the same time. Within two seconds flat, Sam realised that this was the stupidest idea he'd ever had! His eyes felt like they were on fire! He gasped out loud and immediately began frantically scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

A moment later the bedroom door opened and Sam only just had the presence of mind to drop his head into his pillow before Dean entered and switched on the light.

"Sammy? You okay? I thought I heard something."

Sam tried his best to ignore his burning eyes and gave an exaggerated sniff.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded concerned and Sam felt the edge of the bed dip as his brother sat down.

Sam gave a muffled fake sob and didn't reply. He felt Dean's hand rubbing gentle, soothing circles on his back. "It's okay, Tiger. Did you have a nightmare?"

Sam finally looked up at Dean, tears pouring incessantly down his cheeks. He had to consciously prevent himself from constantly blinking, as that was what his abused eyes naturally wanted to do to try and remove the foreign, irritating substance from them.

Sam shook his head and dramatically dragged his hand across his leaking eyes. "I know I'm being a big baby, but I really really really wanted to see that comet." He dropped his head back into his pillow, squeezing his stinging eyes tightly shut and trying to ignore the pain.

Dean was horrified at the state of his baby brother. The kid's eyes were so swollen and bloodshot, that he was convinced that Sam must have been crying pretty much non-stop since he had come up to bed just over an hour ago.

"It really means that much to you, huh?" he asked, physically pulling Sam up from the bed and into a hug.

Sam nodded against Dean's shoulder, sniffling loudly. He knew Dean was close to breaking. His eyes were still watering continuously and he desperately wanted to flush them with water, but he knew he just needed to hang in there and bear the discomfort for a little longer. Dean could feel his little brother's tears soaking slowly through his t-shirt. He couldn't bear to see Sammy so upset.

"Okay, if it's that important to you, Sammy, I'll take you to see the comet."

"Really?" Sam's tear-stained face looked hopefully up into Dean's.

"Yeah, kiddo." Dean smiled as he felt his brother's arms tighten around him, hugging back fiercely.

"Thanks, Dean, you're the best big brother ever!"

"I want you to get a bit of sleep now though. We've got school tomorrow. I'll wake you at quarter to one."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise." Dean ruffled Sam's floppy hair affectionately and was surprised when the boy pulled back and out of his embrace. "Sammy?" he questioned.

"I really really really need the bathroom, Dean," muttered Sam, as he bolted from the room.

Once inside with the door shut, the thirteen-year-old wasted no time rinsing his eyes over and over again with cold water. When he returned to the bedroom ten minutes later, his eyes still felt slightly prickly, but they were a million times better than they had been before. He obediently climbed into bed under Dean's watchful eye and settled down, knowing that he was much too excited to sleep.

Dean wasn't at all comfortable about disobeying orders and was determined that Sammy wouldn't suffer as a result of doing so, as he had all those years ago when the shtriga attacked. With this in mind, Dean entered his father's bedroom and carefully scrutinized the small armoury that was hidden in the closet – he was resolved that he would be adequately prepared for _any_ eventuality. He methodically checked and loaded two guns. One he loaded with consecrated iron rounds and the other with silver, before placing them in a spare weapons duffle. He also put in a flask of holy water. Finally, Dean added the shotgun loaded with rock salt and made his way out to the Impala so that he could stow the bag safely in the trunk.

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN **

Sam jumped excitedly from the car as soon as Dean had applied the brake, not even waiting for his brother to turn the engine off. He immediately craned his neck looking upwards, unconsciously letting an awed gasp escape his lips as he spotted the comet which was clearly visible against the inky blackness of the night sky.

Dean exited the car more sedately and retrieved the weapons duffle from the trunk before hoisting it over his shoulder. He glanced at Sam and couldn't stop the indulgent grin from spreading across his face – the kid was totally enthralled, an expression of complete amazement and wonderment shining in his warm hazel eyes.

"Come on, Sammy. Stay close to me," instructed Dean, starting up the rocky, narrow path which led to the top of the small hill.

"Wow….isn't it brilliant?" breathed Sam, obediently trotting after his brother, his gaze still firmly fixed on the sky.

"Errr….." Dean glanced up at the comet for the first time. He totally did not see why it was such a big deal. It just looked like a slightly bigger star to him, with a tiny trail of light extending a short way behind it. "….yeah, Sammy, it's totally spectacular. But you'd better watch where you're goin' or you're gonna fall flat on your face….and don't expect me to catch you."

As they walked up the steep incline, Sam prattled on about how comets were formed and what they were made of, but Dean was only half listening. Already a natural hunter, Dean was instinctively taking stock of the surrounding terrain and was on high alert for any possible threats.

Half an hour later, Dean punched Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Five more minutes, kiddo, and then we've gotta start heading back."

Sam nodded, eyes still firmly glued to his pair of binoculars. "Okay, Dean."

Sam was sprawled on his back in the damp grass. Dean was sitting up, dividing his time between watching his sibling's enthusiasm fondly and keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

Dean became aware of the rustling sound first. Something was moving at speed through the grasses and low bushes that covered the hillside. Dean cocked his head, listening carefully and scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. Logically, he knew it must be some kind of small nocturnal animal, but the approaching noises didn't match that – it sounded like it was huge! Uneasily, Dean hovered his hand over the weapon's duffle.

Suddenly an unearthly shriek rent the still night air. At exactly the same moment, Dean's searching eyes discerned a darker shadow emerging between two stunted trees a short distance away. Dean's hunter brain immediately registered two facts – it was bestial in appearance, moving on all fours, but it was evidently supernatural as it had glowing, coal-red eyes. Whatever it was, it would stand at least shoulder-height with a grown man and it moved _fast_!

"Stay down, Sammy!" yelled Dean, automatically, without conscious thought, selecting the weapon that would most likely have an effect on a creature of this kind, the one loaded with silver bullets.

Dean's aim was perfect as usual and as the beast bore down on them, he got off two shots straight into its chest. The brute collapsed with an anguished yowl not more than five feet away. Dean scrambled to his feet and emptied the rest of the cartridge into its head and instantly began to reload. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother, white-faced, moving hesitantly forward.

"Stay back!" he commanded urgently, "I don't know if it's dead."

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN**

John Winchester sprinted up the hill, his flashlight illuminating the rough ground before him just enough to prevent him from stumbling. If only he'd realised sooner that the Shirak had left its present hunting grounds, he could have tracked it hours ago! He'd heard the gunshots and cursed. John knew he'd be too late to save whoever was brave enough to fire at it. Normal weapons were useless against it, only silver could kill a Shirak.

On gaining the lip of the hill, his firearm at the ready, John skidded to a standstill. There was a man and a child silhouetted against the night sky, but instead of the Shirak threatening them, it was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

"Move slowly away from it," instructed John calmly, trying not to freak these poor innocent people out. He was expecting the monster to leap up at any second.

The next moment his heart stopped. "Dad?" He heard Sammy's hesitant voice clearly through the night air. This was impossible! His sons were tucked up safely in bed!

"Dean! Get your brother away from it now!" he barked, emptying his weapon into the still body of the creature before him, not prepared to risk it attacking his boys.

Dean's heart was thumping in his chest and adrenaline was pumping through his veins. His brain couldn't compute how his Dad could possibly be there, but he obeyed his father's order on auto-pilot and yanked Sam back with an arm around his waist.

The Shirak hadn't even flinched when John shot it and the hunter quickly came to the conclusion that it had already been dead. He hurried over to his sons, scrutinizing the two teenagers anxiously for any injuries. Satisfied that they were unharmed, he spoke to his eldest.

"You shot it with silver, Dean." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes sir, it seemed the most logical choice. Silver works on quite a number of unnatural creatures, whereas consecrated iron tends to work on things with a demonic origin."

John felt totally numb – he was in a state of shock. He had to actively force back the horrific images that his brain was trying to present him with – his precious children mauled to death and then devoured by the ruthless Shirak.

However, by the time John had salted and burned the carcass, his numbness had been replaced with intense anger. _His two boys could have gotten themselves killed! Just what the hell were they doing outside after dark anyway? _He stalked over to them and taking hold of Dean's bicep turned him sideways and cracked the palm of his hand down as hard as he could across the teen's jean-clad backside. He then gave Sam the same treatment.

"You two are in so much trouble!" he growled. "Dean, lead the way. I'll pick up my truck tomorrow. I'm not letting either of you out of my sight!"

"Yes, sir," acquiesced Dean quietly, knowing the sharp sting in his backside was a love-tap in comparison to what they would get when they got home. The price for breaking curfew was always a heavy one, as he knew first-hand from the time he'd stupidly thought it was a good idea to spend an extra unauthorised hour with his date.

Sam fell into step miserably beside his brother, one hand rubbing his buttocks, unsuccessfully trying to relieve the fierce sting blossoming there.

The drive back to the apartment was silent. Sam had tried to explain, but each time, John had cut him off. The boy was desperate to make his Dad understand that it wasn't Dean's fault.

Once inside, John turned to his boys, his expression thunderous. "I'm too angry to deal with you now," he grunted, "Straight to bed!" John knew that having to wait for the punishment would be a punishment in itself. He glanced at his watch – it was nearly 3am.

"But Dad…" began Sam. The kid looked close to tears. "….you can't punish Dean. It was all my fault…"

"I don't wanna hear it, Sam," John interrupted harshly, "You'll get your chance to explain your side in the morning, but I guarantee that whatever you say you'll still end up over my knee. And so will Dean!"

"But…" Sam glanced at Dean, guilt overwhelming him. His big brother was shaking his head at him, trying to get him to shut up.

"Samuel, do you want a spanking tonight as well as tomorrow?"

Sam mutely shook his head, unshed tears glistening in his expressive eyes.

John looked at his youngest's sorrowful stance and softened slightly. "Sammy, I know you're trying to protect your brother, but you didn't hold a gun to his head, so he knowingly broke curfew and therefore has to face the consequences of that choice, just as you do."

Sam realised that Dean had materialised at his side when he felt his brother's arm slide around his shoulders and he began to gently guide him towards their bedroom.

"Come on, kiddo," murmured Dean softly, "Night, Dad."

Ten minutes later when Dean exited the bathroom and entered the bedroom, he immediately caught the muffled sniffle from Sam's bed. All that could be seen of his baby brother was his mop of floppy hair sticking out the top of the covers, as he had his face buried in his pillow, trying unsuccessfully to hide the fact that he was crying.

Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and gently carded his hand through the boy's hair.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

"I-I'm so-horry, Dean," came the dejected, hitched response, "You're g-g-gonna get sp-spanked 'cause of me." A broken sob escaped him, quickly followed by another and then another.

"Okay, brat, shove up," instructed Dean lifting the covers and sliding into bed next to Sam.

Desperate to comfort the child, he looped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Sam immediately stiffened and tried to pull away.

"And just where do you think you're going?" enquired Dean, hugging tighter and preventing his escape. "Dad's right you know. It's not your fault….I could have said no, so it's on me. And even if you had put a gun to my head, I'd have disarmed you in like two seconds flat anyway," he teased.

It wasn't that Sam didn't want Dean's comfort, in fact, when upset, he craved it. But Sam was convinced that when he knew the truth, _Dean_ would pull away from _him_ and he couldn't bear that rejection.

"You d-don't understand, D-dean. You're gonna h-hate me. I d-deliberately manipulated y-you! I w-wasn't really cryin' b-before, I p-put lemon juice i-in my eyes so th-they'd water."

Sam closed his eyes, waiting for Dean to withdraw and gave another choked sob. A moment later, he realised that Dean's arm was still wrapped securely around his waist and he also heard Dean give a low chuckle.

"You did, did you, Sammy? Maybe you do have a brain after all. I have to admit that was really quite clever."

"No it w-wasn't! It hurt like h-hell! So you're n-not mad?"

"No, kiddo, I'm not mad. But don't expect me to believe anything you say ever again, princess," he teased.

Dean was relieved that Sam's crying was finally beginning to taper off as a result of his reassurances and a short while later the boy's breathing evened out, indicating that he had fallen asleep. Dean however remained awake for a long time, the events of the evening replaying in his head. _What if he hadn't thought to take along a range of weapons? He and Sam would most likely be dead! Had their father known it was in the area?_ Dean quickly dismissed the last thought, certain that their Dad wouldn't have put them at risk like that – he would have warned him, so that he could properly protect Sammy.

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN**

John checked on his sons before turning in himself. He was unsurprised to find them both in Sam's bed, as he had known that his youngest was upset. Now that he had had the time to calm down, John was intrigued about why Sam thought it was his fault. _Just what had they been doing in the countryside in the middle of the night?_

He had also checked the contents of the duffle that Dean had brought in from the car and had been incredibly impressed with the forethought and understanding of the supernatural that his eldest had shown in the items he had selected to include.

John was not looking forward to dealing with his errant children in the morning. He hated to see them hurting and whenever they cried it distressed him greatly, so to be the one to inflict the pain and to cause the tears literally broke his heart, even though he knew it was necessary for their own good.

John had no intention of sending them to school in the morning on a meagre few hours of sleep. He would wait until they woke up naturally before dealing with their disobedience.

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN **

Sam awoke and stretched, stopping short when his right arm collided with Dean's chest. Dean grunted in his sleep, but didn't wake up. For a moment Sam was puzzled as to why he was in bed with his brother and then the memory of the night before came crashing down.

A rock settled heavily in the pit of his stomach and the thirteen-year-old slid quietly out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping sibling. A glance at the clock told him that they had already missed the start of school.

There was no sign of his Dad anywhere in the apartment, but Sam found a note on the kitchen table that explained his absence. It read as follows: _Morning Boys! Got a call from Caleb and had to meet him. Will be back by mid-afternoon. DO NOT LEAVE THE APARTMENT. Dad._

Sam couldn't settle. Waiting for a spanking was the worst thing ever as far as he was concerned. He was determined to convince their father that Dean wasn't to blame. He tried to read a book, but couldn't concentrate. The boy was glad when Dean finally made an appearance just over an hour later, as his big brother would provide some distraction at least.

**SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN ~ SUPERNATURAL ~ SPN **

John found Sam and Dean sprawled on the sofa watching TV when he returned. Both boys stood up at attention as soon as they saw him. John folded his arms across his chest and contemplated them sternly.

"Okay, I want to know what happened last night. Report, Dean," he barked authoritatively. John was always careful to ensure that they had a chance to explain things from their side before doling out discipline.

Dean recounted the events from arriving at the bottom of the hill to shooting the creature in detail, but the only thing he said about Sam's part in it was that the kid had asked to go see the comet and that he'd said yes. He could see his brother glaring daggers at him for this omission, but studiously ignored him.

John could tell that his youngest was bursting to tell him something. The reason for being out after curfew didn't surprise him – it was typical Sammy to be excited about something like a comet.

"Anything to add, Sam?" he asked.

"Yeah, Dean didn't tell you everything, Dad. When I asked to see the comet he refused, like he was supposed to. So you shouldn't punish him. I begged him and he still said no. But then I…" Sam dropped his gaze to his feet in shame "…I put lemon juice in my eyes so that he'd think I was crying. So I totally manipulated him, which wasn't fair. I know I deserve a spanking, but please don't spank Dean."

John paused for a moment, digesting what he had just heard. Whenever both of his boys were being spanked at the same time, poor Dean, due to his privileged position of being the firstborn, had to stand in the corner and listen to his brother get punished first while waiting with trepidation for his own spanking. Sam was then allowed to escape to the bedroom and wasn't forced to witness his brother's spanking. If given the choice of being spanked first however, John was certain that Dean would still opt to go second in order to protect his baby brother as much as possible. Having heard Sam's confession, John came to the conclusion that the baby of the family could do with a serious reminder that all actions and choices had consequences. He quickly came to a decision. Without a word he entered the kitchen and returned with a wooden hard-backed chair. Both boys knew what that meant.

"Sam, go stand in the corner and Dean come here," he instructed.

Under other circumstances, John would have found the startled expressions on his sons' faces amusing. He knew that having to listen to Dean's punishment while blaming himself for it would have as great an impact on the child as the actual spanking he would receive.

"But, Dad…." began Dean, casting a worried glance at Sam.

"Are you disobeying another order, Dean?" asked John grimly, one eyebrow raised.

"No, sir," replied Dean, moving to his father side, while casting a sympathetic glance at Sam as he shuffled towards the corner.

John seated himself on the kitchen chair and tugged Dean over his lap. He immediately began swatting the jean-clad backside hard and fast. The sting quickly built up. The seventeen-year-old remained silent, though as the burn increased, he unconsciously clenched his fists. John too was quiet as he spanked, leaving the lecture until he felt Dean would be more responsive to it.

After a few minutes of solid spanking, John reached under his son and unbuttoned his jeans before pulling them down to his knees. He then resumed slapping his hand down rhythmically on the boxer-clad buttocks. He spanked from side to side and from top to bottom, ensuring every inch of Dean's rump was thoroughly spanked.

The pain had built to such a level now that Dean was seriously struggling to remain stoic. He rammed one fist into his mouth to prevent himself from crying out. _Sammy would be upset enough without hearing how much pain he was in!_

John could feel Dean beginning to shift his weight slightly across his knees as his subconscious which wanted to escape warred with his conscious mind that wanted to stay in position. He paused in the spanking long enough to pull down Dean's boxers to meet his jeans.

The boy's rear was already bright red. He knew that Dean still wasn't crying, even though he must be in considerable pain by now. With a sigh, John increased the force behind the swats and was rewarded by a grunt from the teen, which was quickly smothered. The loud slaps of skin connecting with skin echoed in the small apartment.

John glanced at his youngest in the corner without pausing in spanking his eldest. Sam's shoulders were shaking, indicating that the boy was most definitely crying. John glanced back at Dean when he caught the slight hitched breath indicating that he was nearly at breaking point,

To help the boy along, John raised one knee to gain better access to his sit-spots and laid down a dozen brisk swats on the sensitive area. Dean could hold back the tears no longer and a muffled sob heralded the opening of the floodgates.

John slowed his swats and moved them to the top of Dean's thighs. "Why am I spanking you, Dean?"

"B-because I b-broke curfew," he sniffled.

"And why do I give you a curfew?"

"To k-keep us safe." Dean wasn't sure how much more he could bear.

"That's right," said John sternly, pausing and resting his hand on the burning buttocks before him. "You and Sammy could have been seriously hurt or worse with the little stunt you pulled last night. We're nearly done here."

Dean braced himself, knowing the last few swats would be the hardest and his Dad didn't disappoint.

John gently pulled up Dean's underwear and helped the teen to stand. He immediately pulled the boy into a tight hug. He just held the boy for a few minutes and let him cry. Dean fought valiantly to get himself under control as quickly as possible, fully aware that the longer he took to recover, the longer Sammy would have to wait. Usually, he relished the close one-on-one time with his Dad after a spanking, but the needs of his brother came before his own. Way before he was ready, he pulled out of his father's loving, secure embrace and reached down to pull up his jeans, hissing involuntarily as the rough denim scraped over his sore skin.

John could read his eldest like a book and knew that he was foregoing his own comfort for the sake of his younger brother. "Why don't you go have a lie down, Ace?" he suggested, giving the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Dean nodded and moved stiffly towards the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and looked back at his father pleadingly. "I know you've gotta spank him, but please don't be _too_ hard on Sammy."

John sighed. "I'll be as hard on Sammy as I need to be, no more, no less."

John waited until Dean had shut the bedroom door behind him before calling his youngest to his side.

Sam's face was streaked with tears. The boy didn't wait for instructions, he simply reached for the button on his jeans straight away.

"No, Sammy, not yet. Your crime is the same as Dean's, so your spanking is going to follow the same pattern."

It was obvious to John that Sam, who usually fought every punishment tooth and nail, was willingly submitting to this one, because he felt totally responsible for it. If Dean had endured a sound spanking, because of _his_ choice, then Sam felt he more than deserved the same.

This was reinforced a moment later as the young teen willingly placed himself across John's lap without being forced into position. He knew the boys thought he was being lenient by starting the spanking fully clothed, but John knew he was in fact being the opposite. As the sting built up, they would be lulled into the false impression that it couldn't get much worse, which would then be proved completely wrong when the protective layer of denim was removed. Again, the pain would reach a level which they would consider close to maximum, only to find that untrue when the thin cotton layer was removed and spanking on the bare commenced.

As before, John started spanking the denim-clad bottom hard and fast. Sam immediately started yelping and squirming. The squirming was a reaction to the stinging onslaught and not an attempt to escape the punishment. John held him firmly in place with one arm around his waist.

After a couple of minutes, John reached under Sam to unfasten his jeans. He was surprised when the boy purposefully raised his hips to aid the process. With the jeans successfully relocated to the teen's knees, John recommenced the spanking. With the magnified sting, Sam's yelps became more verbal. Tears were already pouring freely down his face.

"Owww!…..Dad…..that Owww! hurts Owww!…."

Normally at this point Sam would be begging for John to stop, promising anything if only the punishment would cease. But he didn't ask for that, instead, he started confessing what he had done wrong.

"Owww!….I w-was Owww!…..really mean to…Ouch! D-dean. Unghh! I sh-shouldn't…Owww! have tricked h-him…..Owww! and….Ouch! I b-broke curfew…Aargh!...Owww! that r-really hurts! Unghh!"

John decided it was time to move onto the last stage and pulled down Sam's underwear, revealing an already crimson bottom.

"It wouldn't be much of a punishment if it didn't hurt, Sammy," replied John drily, peppering both butt-cheeks with a volley of sharp swats.

John heard the change in breathing as Sam's crying worsened to sobbing and was relieved that the spanking was nearly over. He hated disciplining his kids!

As he had done with Dean, he changed position and concentrated on Sam's sensitive sit-spots. The kid actually wailed and went totally limp across John's knees.

John paused in his spanking. "You seem to know already what you've done wrong, so I'm not going to lecture you. But are you going to break curfew again?"

Sam shook his head miserably.

John applied two more sharp swats. "What was that, Sam? I couldn't hear you."

"N-no, s-s-sir."

John ended the spanking with four blistering swats, two to the top of each thigh, before gently pulling up Sam's underwear over the raw, throbbing skin. He lifted the boy carefully into a sitting position on his lap. Sam whimpered as his freshly spanked bottom settled onto his father's thighs.

John wrapped his arms tightly around his youngest. "It's okay, Sammy. Forgiven and forgotten remember?"

Sam snaked his arms around his Dad's neck and buried his face into his shirt. His small frame shook with the force of his sobs. John began to rub soothing circles on the boy's back and allowed him to cry himself out. It took a long while before Sam raised his head with a final sniffle and wiped his nose on his sleeve. John smiled down at him – Sam looked just as he had at five after a spanking.

"You okay now, Tiger?"

Sam nodded, leaning back against his father's broad chest, quite content to remain sitting on his Dad's knee. John relished the moment – with Sam now being a teenager, he usually insisted he was too old to sit on laps anymore.

After about five minutes though, Sam stood up. He would have liked to stay wrapped up in the security that his Dad offered all afternoon, but he knew that Dean would be really worried about him.

"I think I'll go have a lie-down too, Dad, okay?"

"Course Sammy. I'll call you and Dean when supper's ready."

Sam entered the bedroom sheepishly. Dean had been lying on his stomach on his bed, but as soon as he saw Sam, he jumped up and enveloped the young teen in his arms.

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam hugged back tightly.

"I'm fine….well, most of me is anyway. I'm really really really sorry, Dean."

"If you say you're sorry one more time, Sam, I swear I'll put you over _my_ knee. Get it through your thick skull that this isn't your fault!"

"It is too, _jerk_."

"Is not, _bitch_."


End file.
